


in each place and forever

by beanierose



Series: somewhere patient, somehow kind [1]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: College AU, F/F, katya is a trans woman, this is not a one night stand fic, trixie is a cis woman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-15 05:44:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18492565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beanierose/pseuds/beanierose
Summary: Trixie and Katya meet at Pride. They fuck. Duh.





	1. chapter one

when I don’t touch you it’s a mistake in any life  
in each place and forever  
**bob hicok, _other lives and dimensions and finally a love poem_**

* * *

 

Trixie lifts onto her tiptoes to see herself in the mirror a little closer. She knows it doesn’t matter, knows that no one is going to be near enough to her face today to see that the inner corner of her lashes is crooked. Still, she wants to look cute.

She doesn’t really know anyone here yet. The semester doesn’t start for another month and a half, but she came halfway across the country early. Specifically to be here for this day. Wisconsin is home, but the thrill of a new life stretching before her has her giddy. Trixie has worked her ass off evenings and weekends and all summer the past few years, enough that she has her own tiny studio close to campus now. Affection for the space blooms in her chest every time she unlocks the front door. All she’s really wanted from college is freedom and the chance to grow into herself.

It’s taken a lot of work, but she has that now.

There’s a Facebook group for all of the incoming freshmen to meet and bond before classes start, and Trixie has met a couple of girls with her same major. They’re coming down too, and Trixie hopes that it will be a bonding experience for them all, but she wouldn’t call them her friends yet. Pearl is so poised and graceful, although Trixie has caught a couple of glimpses of her inner goofiness. Violet scares her, if she’s honest. She thinks - hopes - that the bitchiness is a front, a defence mechanism of sorts.

There’s a little smudge of pink lipstick at the corner of her mouth and Trixie worries at it with her ring finger. She kept things fairly minimal, because it’s so warm out. A smattering of freckles covers her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, sunscreen making her a little shiny. She’s only wearing lipstick and the false lashes; she had every intention of doing something intricate and colourful, but it’s so damn hot in California.

She drops back down onto flat feet and twists in the mirror to admire her ass. Her high-waisted denim shorts are flattering, and her legs are a mile long before they hit her white Vans. Trixie has never been one to go for the ostentatious, preening display of colour. The soles of her sneakers have a rainbow on them, and that’s about as far as she’s willing to go. She has a lesbian flag, because she loves pink and she loves being a lesbian.

“Trixie?” Violet calls, and pokes her head around the door. “Are you done?”

She arranges the curl framing her face just so and smiles at herself in the mirror.

“Uh-huh. Are you?”

Violet steps into the doorframe to let Trixie take her in. She’s wearing what is essentially lingerie and her waist is roughly the circumference of Trixie’s thigh. Trixie lets out an enthusiastic yell.

“Oh _yes_ , bitch.”

“I know,” Violet laughs.

Violet is thin where Trixie is curvaceous, dark hair next to Trixie’s blonde curls. Violet wears a red lip almost every day and it’s gorgeous against her pale skin. Trixie looks at the two of them in the mirror and laughs at the striking image they make. The other girls have been calling her Dolly. In jest, sort of, but she has thick blonde hair and she’s a bumpkin and the second they found out she plays the guitar it was over.

She’s not mad.

Growing up a lesbian in small town Wisconsin? Yeah. She’s heard worse.

Outside, the streets are already crowded. It’s a gorgeous day and Trixie feels the tops of her ears getting warm. She has Violet and Pearl either side of her. They’ve both been to San Francisco Pride before and know the best spot to stand, so Trixie is just doing her best not to get lost in the crush of people. Pearl has her arm threaded through Trixie’s. The glitter she’s wearing instead of a shirt is scratchy at the sensitive inside of Trixie’s bicep.

This isn’t her first time at Pride - she went to PrideFest Milwaukee a few years back - but something about being here feels different. Her skin is alive, as if the electric thrill of the city is pulsing right beneath the surface. The heat of the day is making her hyperaware of every pore and the back of her neck itches with salt-sweat.

They have a spot right next to the barrier and Trixie leans her forearms against it. The other two are swigging from a water bottle Pearl brought, but Trixie is too transfixed by the march to want in. Here, in San Francisco, a month and a half before she starts college, she feels as if she is truly inhabiting her body for the first time.

The spot they’ve wound up in is right next to a designated crossing, which means that lots of the groups in the parade stop in front of them for a couple minutes at a time. They get extra stickers and candy and pins. Someone takes the sucker right out of their mouth and puts it into Trixie’s and she finds that she doesn’t even care about the hygiene implications.

She feels effortless and effervescent. The music swells and she lifts her arms above her head, rocking her hips side to side in time with the heavy beat. There’s a sense of community in the streets today that Trixie has never felt before. She isn’t just accepted, she’s celebrated. They all are. Her heart aches with tenderness towards the whole world here in this moment.

Corporations being at Pride makes her uncomfortable, but she’s grateful all the same for the bottled water being passed out by all the grocery stores that are coming through. Trixie twists the cap off the bottle and downs most of it in one go, spilling it over her chin and down her neck in her haste. She pours what’s left over herself. It doesn’t do much to cool her off, but it does make her cropped tee cling to her tits.

One of her space buns is coming loose and she does her best to fix it while still dancing. Now that she’s out here among all of these people she doesn’t care so much anymore about looking cute, but she doesn’t want any more hair to be touching her face and neck than is absolutely necessary.

A little grunt of frustration escapes her as she wrestles with the bobby pins. She meant to bring some spares with her, but Pearl was twitchy with impatience as they were leaving and there wasn’t time to double check her backpack.

“Here,” a voice comes from behind her, and something prods her shoulder.

Trixie turns around to see a pin proffered towards her, and behind it a girl. A woman, really. She notices with alarm that she can’t see Violet or Pearl anymore, but this woman is waiting for her to take the bobby pin, her head tilted to one side, and Trixie does not care.

“Thanks.” She takes the pin and jabs it haphazardly into her hair to hold it a little better.

The woman grins, then. She has the whitest, most beautiful smile Trixie has ever seen. She’s a few inches shorter than Trixie is, and she lifts up on tiptoe. The fingertips of one hand come to Trixie’s shoulder to steady herself and with the other she fixes Trixie’s rapidly worsening hair.

Someone next to them jostles her and she stumbles in closer to Trixie. She drops back down flat in her jelly shoes, which have instantly endeared Trixie to her. Her blunt, white-blonde bangs are clinging to her sweaty forehead, and the rest of her hair falls in loose waves down to her waist.

“Yekaterina,” the woman says, and lets go of Trixie’s shoulder. “But. . .eh. Katya.”

“Beatrice,” Trixie finds herself saying. She is unmoored by this beautiful creature, has to work her tongue awkwardly around her teeth. “Trixie.”

“Are you here by yourself?”

This time, Trixie bothers to actually scan the crowd. Violet and Pearl are both tall and striking and very difficult to miss. She doesn’t see them anywhere. Trixie worries at her bottom lip, capturing it between her teeth. Ruining her lipstick, if it isn’t already smeared all over her face.

She hasn’t been to this city before, and she doesn’t even have Violet’s number. She’s been too shy to ask for it. It seems highly unlikely that Pearl is going to pick up. Pearl often doesn’t respond to an in person conversation, never mind a phone call.

“It’s starting to seem that way.” She shrugs, doing her best to manufacture nonchalance.

Katya opens her mouth on a smile that seems to let joy come spilling right out. She hooks her arm through Trixie’s and lays her head against Trixie’s shoulder for just a second. The sharp edge of her cheekbone pushes against the soft flesh of Trixie’s bicep, and then she straightens up again.

“Hey, me too. My friends ditched me to go fuck.” The matter of fact way Katya says it makes Trixie flush and she glances down at their feet. “But I guess now neither of us are.”

A thrill rushes through Trixie and just that quickly she realises-

Oh. She _likes_ this girl.

Fuck.

“I like your flag,” Katya is saying as she runs a fingertip along the hem of Trixie’s lesbian flag. Pearl insisted on tying it around Trixie’s shoulders earlier and it’s kind of choking her a bit, but the knot is too tight for her to bother with right now.

Trixie taps her fingernail against the enamel trans flag pin that Katya is wearing and smiles. “I like yours too.”

“You should wear these,” Katya gasps, and almost rips the sunglasses off her face. They’re pink circle lenses and they did look kind of insane with Katya’s red lipstick. She pushes them onto Trixie’s face, taking care not to have them sit crooked, and then she grins widely. “Much better on you, Barbie.”

Trixie opens her mouth to ask what Katya will do now, and then notices that she’s wearing another pair of sunglasses on top of her head. These ones are a dramatic cat eye shape in white plastic. Katya is so perfectly odd that Trixie can’t help the giggle that escapes her.

“What?” Katya asks.

“Nothing. I just like you.”

Katya erupts in a stream of raucous laughter that makes her stamp her feet and wave her fists in the air. Her face is all scrunched up with mirth. It feels really good, to make her laugh like this, and Trixie shakes her head in fond amusement.

It’s two o’clock in the afternoon now, and the day is at its hottest. Katya keeps lifting her hair up off her neck and Trixie watches the hypnotic fall of those blonde curls through her fingers. She imagines fisting her hands in that hair, imagines Katya grinning that perfect grin up at her from between Trixie’s thighs, and she has to clear her throat.

Katya is wearing a sheer black long sleeved shirt with absolutely nothing underneath it, and Trixie is having a very difficult time focusing. The parade is still moving beside them, but she has angled her body away from the barrier. Towards Katya.

“You have really great tits,” Trixie says, and immediately wants to die, but Katya screams out another stream of cackling laughter. It makes tiny creases form at the corners of her eyes. Trixie wants to put her mouth on them.

“Thanks! I paid a lot of money, so I like to show them off.” Katya’s eyes slide slowly down Trixie’s body then and she feels the pink bloom of embarrassment furious in her cheeks. “So do you, doll.”

Trixie is feeling unmoored already by the absence of the only two people she knows in this city, and Katya’s confident pursuing of her is only making her more flustered. Their arms aren’t linked anymore, but Katya is holding her hand somehow. It’s sweaty, but it’s nice.

It feels like Katya cares more about getting separated from Trixie than her actual friends did.

Another group is approaching them in the parade, and as they get closer Trixie sees that they’re all wearing tees with the familiar blue, pink and white striped flag on the front of them. Katya is cheering and screaming beside her, jumping up and down. It attracts the attention of one of the guys, who breaks apart from the group and comes over to them to give them each a mini trans flag to wave.

Trixie sees the glance Katya casts at her from the corner of her eye and she very carefully doesn’t turn her head. Instead, she accepts the flag enthusiastically and begins to wave it. She doesn’t want to make a big deal, because it isn’t a big deal.

Next to her, Katya’s shoulders come down just a fraction. She holds her own flag aloft and sings along to the music at the top of her lungs. The flash of panic that rushed through Trixie when she realised she was alone has long dissipated.

This is _fun_.

Katya is fun. She’s charismatic, able to draw people away from the parade route to come and talk with her or give her freebies. Trixie is quickly learning that Katya is also generous and kind. She watches her sharing her spoils with the people around them. There’s a family close by, two dads and their daughter, and Katya has the little girl’s rapt attention.

They’re not really talking, because it’s so loud and because they’re too busy singing and laughing and screaming. It’s long past time to reapply sunscreen and Trixie can feel the tip of her nose growing pink, but it’s worth it. She can smell sweat and whatever perfume Katya is wearing and she’s a little dizzy with it, has to keep gripping onto the railing in front of them.

When the parade finally dwindles Trixie’s cropped tee is covered in pins and stickers and her arms are stamped with various rainbow insignias. She has a bruise on her forearm from leaning against the railing and her back itches with sweat beneath her backpack, but she is so happy.

“Do you want to get something to eat?” Katya asks.

The edges of her red lipstick are fuzzy and she’s sweated off most of her foundation, but she looks lovely. She looks as overflowing with joy and pride as Trixie feels.

“I fucking love being a lesbian,” Trixie says, and is alarmed to feel the familiar burn of tears.

Katya throws her head back on a laugh. She’s wearing a pair of rainbow Mickey Mouse ears that someone from the Disney float gave her. Trixie is fairly sure they were not supposed to be just handed out to random people, but she has quickly learned that that’s just Katya’s influence.

People warm to her quickly, are pulled in close as if by a hook speared low down in their guts. It’s so, so stupid, but Trixie feels grateful and proud that it’s her Katya keeps turning over her shoulder to look at. Her whose fingers are still loosely tangled with Katya’s and hanging between their bodies.

“I do too, doll,” Katya says. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes,” she says emphatically. “I’m starving. I’m a vegetarian, is that okay?”

“This is San Francisco, baby.” Katya is laughing, maybe at her a little bit, but she doesn’t mind. Worth the teasing to get to see Katya’s open mouth and the enticing pink of her tongue.

Trixie lets Katya lead her along by the knot of their fingers. It’s busy, a lot busier than Trixie is used to, but the anxiety she’s prepared for never comes. These are her people. Trixie is overwhelmed with unfiltered joy that washes through her like lovely, clean light.

She might have a little bit of heatstroke.

“Katya, I’m really really glad that I’m queer. We’re the best.”

At first she thinks maybe Katya didn’t hear her, but once they’ve crossed the street Katya twists to look at Trixie over her shoulder.

“I’m really really glad that I met you today. You weirdo.”

Thousands of people are all trying to get to wherever they’re going next, so Trixie is quite content to bob along in the rip current of this woman she’s known for two hours and not have to think about it.  They stop at one of the food trucks capitalising on the rush of people into the city today. Katya orders for them both, and Trixie is too happy and maybe too dehydrated to question that. She takes the container that Katya hands her gratefully.

They walked for a while, so it’s a little quieter down here. It’s also cooler now that they’re closer to the water, and Trixie is so grateful. She doesn’t realise how tired her feet are until she sinks to sit on the bench next to Katya, who has pulled one knee up onto the seat and angled her whole body towards Trixie.

For a little while, they chew together in silence. Trixie can feel Katya’s eyes on her and she has to force herself to sit still. The distraction of the parade was a blessing, but now that the two of them are alone together she feels off-kilter and clumsy with how badly she wants Katya.

Trixie takes the opportunity to work at the knot resting against her throat. She finally gets the flag untied and removes it from around her shoulders, grateful to be able to breathe again. Katya immediately takes the flag from Trixie and wraps it around herself. She sucks in a deep breath through her nose.

“Smells like you. You smell good.”

It makes Trixie blush again, and she feels Katya’s eyes on her, but she can’t seem to meet them. Not knowing what’s going to happen next is making her feel woozy and half-panicked. It’s detached, as if she’s watching someone else sit next to somebody who quite clearly wants to fuck them too and do nothing about it.

Once she’s done eating Katya takes her empty container and Trixie’s to the trash can a few meters away. It gives Trixie the chance to watch her walk away. Her hair is long enough to just graze the swell of her ass and she puts an extra sway in her hips. Just for Trixie. She hopes.

Katya is loose-limbed and confident. When she turns around to head back to Trixie she sees her staring and she licks her lips. It is entirely unfair that she seems to have it so together.

“So here’s the thing,” Katya says as she sits back down. She takes both of Trixie’s hands in hers as if in prayer. “I think you’re just about the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I’m very interested in eating your pussy. Today. Like. . .right now. Is that something you might be interested in?”

A tiny squeak of surprise and arousal escapes Trixie. She feels the furious bloom of colour high up in her cheeks and along the column of her neck. Her voice is entirely gone, and even if it wasn’t she doesn’t know what she could possibly say to that.

Instead, Trixie lets herself lunge towards Katya the way she’s been wanting to all afternoon. Her response is immediate and enthusiastic. One wide, warm palm comes up to cradle Trixie’s jaw and she lets her angle her head just so. Trixie is ready for all of Katya’s chaotic energy to come pouring into her mouth, but their kiss is slow and exploratory.

The fingertips of one hand rest at Trixie’s cheek and those four warm points of contact are so erotic. Katya’s hot, ragged breaths huff against Trixie’s cheek. Trixie brings her hands up to touch Katya. One of them lands at the back of her neck and she skims the knuckles of the other against the curve of Katya’s waist.

Katya’s tongue darts out to lick at the seam of Trixie’s lips and she opens for her. The hand at Katya’s neck slides up and into her hair and Trixie tugs on a fistful of it until she earns a broken growl from deep in Katya’s throat. When they break apart Katya’s eyes are half closed. Her red lipstick is smudged all over her face, and it must be all over Trixie’s too. She likes it, the idea that anybody who looks at them will know.

“I wanted to do that the second I saw you,” Katya says.

She captures one of Trixie’s hands in both of hers and lifts it to her mouth. Each tiny, open mouthed press of her lips to Trixie’s palm sends a shiver through her. When she takes two of Trixie’s fingers into her mouth and her tongue slides obscenely into the crease between them Trixie gasps.

They’re in _public_ , she’s just now remembering.

“Should we go somewhere?” Trixie asks. Katya releases her fingers with a pop and arches an eyebrow. “I want to go somewhere.”

Katya kisses her again instead of answering. It’s insistent this time. Her mouth travels down the length of Trixie’s neck until her tongue can dip into the hollow of her throat. Trixie slides both hands into Katya’s hair and closes her eyes, her head tossed back in reckless abandon.

She is so wet that she feels it slick between her thighs when she shifts in her seat.

“Do you want to come back to my place?” Katya asks when she lifts her head to look Trixie in the face again. She reaches out to swipe her thumb against the corner of Trixie’s mouth, pulls it back and inspects the red smudge there.

It’s a very bad idea. She has known Katya for approximately four hours. She doesn’t know anybody else, doesn’t know where Violet and Pearl have gotten to. And yet-

“Yes. I want to. Take me home.”

Just that quickly, the dark swirl of arousal that had been shifting across Katya’s face clears. She smiles at Trixie, so big and so bright that it makes her blush. There’s an innocence to her, glee propelling her up off the bench. She takes both of Trixie’s hands to pull her up too and then hooks her arm through the crook of Trixie’s elbow.

She leans in conspiratorially. “I didn’t clean.”

“I don’t care.”

She finds that actually she does care a little bit, when Katya opens the door to her apartment and immediately trips over a discarded heel. Not enough that it stops her from crowding Katya against the wall though. It’s thrilling, to be taller than her. She likes the way Katya arches her neck up into their kiss, likes the way one of Katya’s slender thighs slides between both of hers.

The friction makes her bow her head until her forehead meets Katya’s and she rocks her hips wildly and without rhythm. Katya is hard against her and she whines a needy and indignant noise.

“Trixie, _Trixie_ ,” she says, and turns her face away from Trixie’s open and seeking mouth. “I don’t want to do this standing up.”

She leads the way. Not that she knows where the bedroom is, but the place is tiny. Katya is a burning, insistent creature at her back. Her thin fingers are trying to reach around and unbutton Trixie’s shorts while they walk and it almost brings both of them to the floor, but she manages it.

A moment of startling clarity hits Trixie and she hesitates in the doorway. She could get murdered right now, and who would know? And then Katya’s hand is sliding inside of her shorts and rubbing her through her underwear. She tries to turn around but Katya keeps her in place with her free hand splayed wide and low at Trixie’s stomach.

“I wanna taste you,” she breathes against her ear, and Trixie’s knees buckle.

She lets herself be nudged towards the bed and she sits down on the end of it, leaning back on her elbows. Katya is on her knees on the ground. Trixie shifts her hips to help Katya pull her shorts and underwear off.

“Oh, my God,” Katya says with such reverence that Trixie’s eyes close. She has her cheek pressed against the inside of Trixie’s thigh and her warm breaths make Trixie crazy.

When she lifts up on her elbows a little more, she sees that Katya has pushed her tiny leather skirt up around her waist and wrapped her fingers around her dick. The sight of it makes Trixie groan and collapse back against the mattress.

She is so desperately turned on that she can’t stay still, her hips rolling and lifting uselessly, searching for friction that Katya keeps denying her. Right as she’s about to ask for what she needs, Katya finally touches her. The first hot swipe of Katya’s tongue over her makes Trixie cry out and arch off the bed.

Her knees close around Katya’s face as she works at her. Katya slides two fingers into her and curls them and that’s all it takes, Trixie’s coming apart around Katya’s hands and her mouth.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Katya says.

She climbs up onto the bed and kisses Trixie, lets her taste herself. Trixie gets a hand down between them and wraps her fingers around Katya’s dick. She keeps her grip shallow, lets Katya rock her hips down hard and fuck into Trixie’s palm.

Katya tugs on Trixie’s shirt and grunts a frustrated noise that makes Trixie press her thighs together. She lifts up a little bit to assist and together they get her shirt off. Katya opens her mouth against Trixie’s nipple through her bra and the scrape of lace and teeth makes her suck in a startled breath.

“Can I-” Trixie starts, and then can’t seem to articulate what she wants.

In lieu of words, she pushes on Katya’s shoulder until she lies on her back next to Trixie. She’s still wearing all of her clothes, which is not acceptable. Trixie pulls off Katya’s see-through tee and her tiny skirt, and then they’re both naked and sweaty and gasping.

Katya is like Ophelia beneath her, all long flowing hair and liquid limbs. She’s beautiful, and Trixie pauses for a second to take her in. When Katya’s eyes open, so blue and clear that Trixie sees the whole boundless sky there, she takes it as her cue.

Trixie bows her head and wraps her lips around the head of Katya’s dick. One of Katya’s hands rests at the back of Trixie’s head but there’s no pressure. It’s as if she just wants to feel the way Trixie works over her. Trixie feels the thread of restraint running taut through Katya’s hips.

They are both so worked up, and Trixie can’t stand it anymore. She fumbles in the nightstand drawer for a condom and rips the package open clumsily. She lets Katya roll it on herself, because her hands are trembling. The second she’s done, Trixie slides a knee over Katya’s thighs and sinks down in one fluid motion. As she rides Katya she palms her tits, rolling her nipples between her fingertips.

Katya pulls her down until their chests are pressed together, salt-slick. They aren’t kissing so much as breathing raggedly into each other’s open mouths. Katya’s hand is between them and her thumb rubs at Trixie’s clit as Trixie rises and sinks down over and over.

She’s trying to keep a rhythm, but Katya is a livewire beneath her and she keeps jerking her hips up hard into Trixie and it’s just-

It’s too much.

Trixie comes hard, violent shudders ripping through her as she rocks against Katya. She’s not far behind her, and her teeth sink into Trixie’s shoulder as she comes.

While Katya deals with the condom, Trixie lies on her back in the middle of the bed and her chest heaves. She is only peripherally aware of Katya pottering around the room, opening and closing drawers. The weight of Katya at her hip when she sits on the edge of the mattress brings Trixie back into herself.

She takes the glass of water Katya offers her and drinks slowly, glad for a moment to collect herself before she’s required to speak.

When she woke up this morning, she thought maybe she’d meet a few more people she could grow to call friends. She wasn’t prepared, had no defences against this erotic, narcotic woman. Katya’s wearing a robe, red and emblazoned with a white floral detail. Her hair is pulled half back in a banana clip and her makeup is a nightmare.

“Happy Pride, baby,” Katya says, and leans down to kiss her.

Katya opens the bedroom window and leans half out of it to smoke her cigarette. She’s watching the street below, but every so often she turns her head. Trixie feels Katya’s eyes on her while she gets dressed again. She uses the bathroom, splashes some cold water onto her face, stares at herself in the mirror over the sink.

She has a purple half moon blooming at her shoulder where Katya bit her. It just peeks out from the neckline of her tee. Her hair is absolutely ruined, but she’s sure it will look even worse if she tries to do anything about it right now. She borrows some of the makeup remover in the cabinet to get rid of the worst of the lipstick smudged all over her.

Once she’s presentable again, or as close as she’s going to get, she goes to find Katya. She’s in the kitchen, further inside the refrigerator than seems necessary, but Trixie appreciates the pale lengths of her thighs before they disappear beneath the robe. She straightens up after a second and turns around to look at Trixie.

It’s disarming, how self-assured she is. Katya stares her down until Trixie feels the insistent pound of her heart in her throat. She promised herself that she was going to focus on school for at least the first semester. Classes haven’t even started yet and she just. . .can’t.

“Want to stay for dinner?”

“Pearl will be wondering where I am,” Trixie offers.

She doesn’t believe for a second that it’s true, but it’s something. She crosses the distance between them and kisses Katya’s cheek, right at the corner of her mouth. She tastes cigarette smoke and it’s kind of gross but she doesn’t care.

“I had a really good time.”

Katya grins widely at that and captures Trixie’s bottom lip between her teeth, biting down hard until Trixie whines.

“I did too.”

“Bye, Katya,” Trixie says, and walks away.


	2. chapter two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so supportive of my first foray into this fandom, you are all so lovely and I am so grateful!

“Get a hold of yourself, you fucking useless lesbian,” Brooke says, and slaps her across the back of the head with a dish cloth.

Katya chokes on a laugh and turns around to look at her friend. Brooke is so tall and graceful that she commands Katya’s tiny kitchen at the best of times; the way she’s wielding the towel makes her almost scary.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

It’s a lie. She’s got suds up to her elbows and she was so out of it that she forgot to put gloves on so the pads of her fingers are all wrinkled and nasty.

“You’ve been pining for six weeks, idiot.” Brooke nudges Katya out of the way with her hip so that she can take over the dishes.

Brooke snaps the bright pink gloves on and wiggles her fingers inside them. A sudden rush of gratitude pours through Katya, from the top of her head all the way down to the soles of her feet. She is so, so lucky to have the friends that she does.

Classes begin tomorrow, and Katya is hosting her annual night-before-school-starts potluck dinner. Vanessa and Fame are in her living room getting high and messing with her record collection, but Brooke insisted on helping Katya clean up. She is only just now realising that it was so she can grill her and not out of the kindness of her heart.

“I’m not pining.”

“Katya.” Brooke turns to face her and frowns. “Every four seconds you disappear inside yourself and you get this look.”

She waves her hand as if that illustrates what the look is, but Katya doesn’t need it. She knows. She feels it all over her face, foolish and lovesick.

No. Not love. Not from that one encounter. But. . .interest. The way that Trixie rocked with reckless abandon over her, the softness of her skin. Katya would like very much to see her again. She’s certain that Trixie had been in town for pride, and she was too fucked out and stupid to get her number or add her on Facebook or find out her last name.

Katya has no problem with one night stands, usually. She is deeply in tune with her body and deeply afraid of her emotions. The others tease her about the carousel of pretty freshmen she has wheeling in and out of her bed every year. She scowls and rolls her eyes at Brooke and Vanjie and how they exist as two parts of a greater whole.

Until Trixie, no one has interested Katya enough that she’s wanted to get to know them.

“Listen, if you’d seen her. . .” Katya trails off. She’s been trying for six weeks now to find the words to explain Trixie. How soft she was, all smooth skin and curves and tenderness in the way she touched Katya.

How her face had been alight with wonder as she watched the parade go by. The way her long lashes had dusted her cheeks when she’d glanced down at Katya. The smell of her when Katya pulled off those tiny shorts.

“I know, mama.” Brooke is laughing at her a little bit, but there’s fondness in the way she looks at Katya. “But- I don’t think it’s good to be so hung up over someone you knew for six hours.”

She’s well aware of that. Doesn’t make it any easier to let it go. It feels like unfinished business. She wants to have Trixie on every surface, wants to crowd her up against the cool tile and feel the water pounding over their heads.

For the rest of the evening, Katya makes a concentrated effort to keep her mind off of Trixie and her tiny waist and her huge ass. Everyone is drinking, but Katya is in a period of sobriety at the moment so she chain smokes instead out of the open living room window. Brooke and Vanjie are both crammed into the armchair, Vanjie on Brooke’s lap and Brooke’s arms around her waist. They’re part of the conversation, but they have their own conversation running concurrently that exists entirely in the so-familiar touches of their hands over each other.

Every once in a while, Vanessa will turn over her shoulder to look at Brooke as if to check that she’s enjoying herself. Each time, Brooke kisses Vanjie’s forehead or her cheek or the corner of her eye. Something low down in Katya’s stomach is coming awake, a lazy creature that unfurls its limbs slowly and stretches.

She wants to call it longing.

Fame is stretched out along the length of the couch. She looks as poised and as perfect as ever. Katya remembers when they first met, how startled she had been by the tall and graceful woman. It’s fun, to walk next to Fame and see how people turn to stare at her, and then to also know that she’s a total dork who desperately misses living on a farm.  

Later tonight, Katya will ask her to do her eyebrows so that she can try to look presentable for at least the first day of junior year. It’s not that she can’t do it herself, she just doesn’t have the patience. And she knows that Fame is a masochist who loves Katya’s melodramatic yelping.

They stay up late into the night, talking and laughing and reminiscing about their first two years of school. Katya is glad to be living across the water from campus this year. It’s only a half hour train ride away and it makes her feel like a real adult, to be commuting.

Katya kisses everybody goodbye at the door, effusive and in love with all of them. She washes her face mostly out of guilt, because every time Fame sees her she gets in close to her and tuts at how dry her forehead is. For the hundredth time, she goes to braid her hair and then remembers she doesn’t have to do that anymore.

She had wanted a change, and she had been going so absolutely insane thinking about Trixie that one night she had chopped all of it off. She had laughed as she watched the curls drop into the sink, and then she had called Vanessa to come over and neaten up the back for her.

It’s nice, to feel lighter.

The alarm blares before Katya is emotionally prepared to deal with it. She turns it off and rolls onto her back, throws an arm across her face. On a typical day, she would consider herself a morning person. She likes to wake up early and roll out her yoga mat in the living room, likes the routine of it all. Last night went a little too late, and she can’t be bothered to be a person right now.

She doesn’t really start to wake up until she’s on the train. The collar of her embroidered blouse is annoying her, poking awkwardly into the side of her neck, but hopefully it will soften as the day goes along. Katya has both of her headphones in and she’s listening to a podcast but not really hearing what the hosts are saying. She picks at a hangnail and stares out of the window as the train crosses the water.

Her first class of the day is an elective, and she’s early. This class is the one she’s been most looking forward to for this semester, so much so that she’s actually managed to finish all of her reading already. It was a long summer, and she worked a lot, but she had been lonely. Had done her best to fill her days with reading and writing and yoga and anything that kept her brain busy.

Katya likes to sit at the end of a row, because being trapped in the middle makes her claustrophobic. She settles into her seat and pulls out her laptop, opens up a document to take notes. People start filing in, gradually and then in bigger clusters. It’s a popular course, but it’s not full enough to warrant somebody dropping down into the seat directly next to Katya.

She looks up, and all of the air leaves her lungs.

“I think these belong to you,” Trixie says, and passes Katya a handful of bobby pins.

It’s the most romantic thing that has ever happened to her. A great wave of shock and arousal closes over the top of her head and Katya takes a gasping breath. Trixie is here. Looking at her expectantly.

Her long blonde hair is pulled up in a ponytail and she’s wearing a baby pink mini dress that clings to her chest. Katya is not the only one staring, she notices absently, but she is the only one Trixie’s attention is focused on.

“How did you know I’d be here?”

“I didn’t,” Trixie says. It’s carefully casual, but she’s suddenly refusing to meet Katya’s eyes. “I’ve been carrying them around with me. Hoping I’d bump into you.”

Oh. That’s-

Wow.

“Wait. You know where I live.”

Trixie rubs a hand against the back of her neck and lets out an awkward little breath of laughter. It’s so terribly endearing; Katya wants Trixie’s knees either side of her ears.

“I didn’t want to just show up at your door like a stalker. We didn’t exchange details.”

“I meant to.” She hadn’t, actually. It was only the next morning, when Katya woke up from a dream about Trixie and it dawned on her that she’d never see her again, that the regret set in. And ever since then. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

“Me, too,” Trixie says. Their heads are bent so close together and her voice is low and urgent. “Listen, I know it was supposed to be a one time thing. We were swept up in it being pride or whatever, but- I really want to blow you after this. Is that cool?”

Katya is hard instantly. She sucks in a slow breath through her teeth and manages a nod. Trixie’s pupils are blown out and she’s worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth.

“I’ve thought about you every day,” Katya says softly. She takes one of Trixie’s smooth, small hands in both of hers and strokes her skin absentmindedly. “Every day. I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Must be fate.” Trixie is smiling, and Katya can’t help herself.

She leans in to kiss her. Trixie tastes like strawberry chapstick and gum and she lets out a little noise of contentment. It’s over quickly, and Katya is glad that they’re sitting far back enough that most people aren’t likely to have noticed.

 _God_.

Trixie’s here.

The thrill of it is making her lightheaded.

Class is starting then and Trixie twists back around in her seat to face forwards. Out of the corner of her eye, Katya sees how intently she’s focused on their professor. She’s one of those perky, perfect girls. Her ponytail falls over one shoulder as she leans down to make notes by hand in a pink ring bound notebook. She has a pink water bottle and a pink pencil case. A living doll, whose arm brushes Katya’s every now and then.

God, Brooke is going to rip her to shreds.

“You cut your hair,” Trixie says after class as they walk out together.

Katya’s hands fly up self consciously to touch the bottom of her hair. It looks cute, Vanjie did a great job of making it look stylish, but now she’s nervous. She hasn’t forgotten - hasn’t been able to stop thinking about - the way Trixie fisted both hands in Katya’s long hair and angled her head just so.

“I like it,” Trixie continues. “You’re so fucking hot. Do you have class now?”

“Not till tonight.”

“Great!” Trixie beams, and grabs for her hand. Their fingers thread together and Katya allows herself to be tugged along.

Trixie is a freshman, has to be; Katya would have noticed her if she’d been here the last two years. It doesn’t stop her from marching down the hallway. The authority of Trixie’s walk and the defiant jut of her chin goes right to Katya’s dick.

In the bathroom stall, Trixie drops to her knees in one fluid motion and busies herself with Katya’s pants. She is deft with the button and zipper and clasp and then she’s pulling Katya’s dick out and groaning at the sight of it. Her forehead drops to Katya’s thigh for just a moment, and Katya sees how she’s pressing her own thighs together so tight.

“I’ve missed you,” Trixie says, and wraps her lips around the head of Katya’s dick.

Katya’s entire world has collapsed down to fit between the corners of Trixie’s mouth. She has both hands resting on top of Trixie’s head and she gives the tiniest experimental nudge. Trixie’s eyes fly up to meet hers and she nods. Katya pushes on Trixie’s head then and feels the work of her throat around her dick.

She’s biting her lip so hard that she tastes iron, because God help them if anybody comes in here right now. Trixie’s tongue traces the vein at the underside of Katya’s dick. One hand comes up to squeeze Katya’s balls and that’s all it takes. Her hips jerk hard and she comes with Trixie’s mouth still around her.

The moment she’s inhabiting her body again, Katya cups Trixie’s elbows and brings her to her feet. She kisses her messily, feeling a little guilty for how she’s rumpled Trixie’s perfect ponytail. All of the many, many fantasies she’s been living inside of for the past month and a half are crowding and jostling for her attention. She doesn’t know which one she wants to entertain first.

Katya pushes Trixie’s dress up past her hips and nudges her underwear out of the way so she can slick two fingers through the heat of her. She kisses her the whole time, as she works her fingers inside of Trixie and pinches her nipple through her dress. When Trixie comes it’s on a broken moan and her back arches so that her stomach brushes Katya’s.

Even through two layers of clothes, it drives her wild.

“I want to spend the rest of today with you,” Trixie says.

They’re side by side at the sinks now, piecing themselves back together. It takes Trixie around four seconds to look absolutely perfect again. It takes Katya considerably longer, mostly because she’s too busy looking at Trixie in the mirror to fix her own lipstick smudges.

Once they’re both presentable, Trixie comes around to stand behind Katya. She laces her fingers together at Katya’s stomach, arms snug around her and chin propped on Katya’s shoulder. Trixie leaves a little cluster of kisses right at the very edge of Katya’s cheekbone and smiles at her in the mirror.

It’s so tender, there’s such reverence in the way Trixie touches her, that Katya wants to cry. She settles instead for turning her head and kissing Trixie’s mouth.

“I’d like to spend the day with you, too. I’m supposed to meet a friend to study, if you. . .want to come?”

Katya both remembers and doesn’t remember her freshman year. Her issues with sobriety had increased exponentially once she’d been away from home and out from under the watchful eye of her family. She had partied hard and barely studied; she’s having to work her ass off to make up for it now. She knows that asking a girl on a study date on her very first day of college is maximally unsexy, but she is trying so hard to hold herself accountable this year.

“Sounds good,” Trixie shrugs. “I have some readings to finish.”

She tries valiantly not to let her face betray how grateful she is, but the mirror shows her just how badly she’s failing. This time, she gets to be the one to lead Trixie along. They’re not holding hands, but their knuckles brush as they walk side by side.

Fame is already at their usual table in the coffee shop on campus. She has her laptop out and her headphones on and she doesn’t acknowledge Katya’s arrival until she realises that a third chair is scraping across the poured concrete floor. A third body is sitting down with them.

“This is Trixie,” Katya says pointedly. She narrows her eyes just a tiny bit, but Fame isn’t the one she’s worried about meeting Trixie. Brooke and Vanjie are less tactful, and she’s glad to have a little more time to prepare emotionally for that.

“Fame,” she says, and offers her hand to Trixie.

Instead of shaking it, Trixie takes it in both of hers and squeezes for a second. “Wow. You are like. . .super beautiful.”

Most people are not this self-assured the first time they meet Fame. It is killing Katya that she doesn’t know Trixie well enough to know if she’s covering up any anxiety, or whether she is just that comfortable in her own skin. She wants to know her. Very badly.

“Thank you,” Fame is saying. Her eyes travel over Trixie for a long moment, and then she smiles. “I must say, so are you. Miss Thing’s attempts to describe you really didn’t do you justice.”

Trixie whips around to look at Katya then. Both of her eyebrows are raised and her lips are pressed together in amusement.

“You’ve been _describing_ me?”

Katya opens her mouth to try and formulate a response, but she has nothing. Well, there are lots of things she’d like to say ( _she has been rendered useless with longing for Trixie, she has not been able to think about anything else, she sometimes still tastes the ghost of her in the middle of the night_ ) but none of those are appropriate in front of Fame.

Her silence earns a laugh from Trixie. They’re sitting perpendicular to one another at the table and Katya likes the warmth of Trixie’s foot next to hers and the way their knees occasionally bump.

Once she realises that Katya really doesn’t have anything to say, Trixie busies herself with taking out her textbook for her next class. She has another notebook for this course and she makes diligent notes as she reads, putting little sticky tabs into the textbook with numbers that correspond to what she’s written.

After probably too much time just watching Trixie, Katya remembers to take out her laptop and start her own work. It’s comfortable, the three of them working in easy silence together like this. At one point Trixie goes to get iced coffee for everyone. The second she’s gone, Fame stares Katya out over the top of her glasses.

“Are you going to explain, or. . .?”

“She was in my class this morning. Sat down right next to me. Like an apparition.”

Fame raises an eyebrow at that. She is so much calmer and more unflappable than the rest of their friends, and Katya is grateful that she’s the first one to find out. She and Trixie will have Fame in their corner.

And oh, look at that. She’s thinking already of herself and Trixie as a unit, as an _us_.

“And you guys are what, exactly?” Fame waves a hand. She has a pen between her pointer and middle fingers and it’s making Katya ache for a cigarette.

“Well, she just blew me in the bathroom, so.” Katya shrugs, and then laughs as Fame’s neck grows rapidly pinker. “I don’t know what we are.”

She shifts uncomfortably in her chair as Fame studies her. By now, she should be used to this. Fame never rushes to speak, never fills a silence just for the thrill of hearing herself talk the way that Katya does. She is composed and considerate, but it often means that whatever she says cuts right through all of Katya’s posturing and bares the heart of her.

“You look happy. And she does too. Don’t let her go again.”

Trixie is back then, handing out coffees and tightening her ponytail and bending to get something out of her backpack so that the swell of her ass is in Katya’s face. She is a doll, perfectly proportioned and perfectly clothed. She’s wearing the same perfume as she was the day they met and the sense memories are making Katya feel sunburnt and drunk with lust all over again.

If this is Trixie’s signature scent, if she wears it every day. . .God help her.

They don’t quite manage to spend the rest of the day together. Katya has a class - she leaves Trixie and Fame studying together at the little table and she is so thrilled with how easily Trixie has slotted herself right in to Katya’s life. When her class is done, Trixie has two.

It’s nearly seven pm before they’re both free. Katya got Trixie’s number this time, followed all of her social media as well. She’s posted a picture on her Instagram story of all of their work spread out across the table. Katya’s hands are in it, and she’s put little gifs of hearts around them. It’s silly and sentimental and it makes Katya feel so important. Cared for.

Katya goes to collect Trixie from her last class of the day. She is rapidly getting sucked in to the drama of it all. Waiting outside, with an ice tea that Trixie texted and asked her to bring, Katya leans against the brick edifice of the building and feels the late afternoon warmth through the material of her shirt. Her foolish heart is birdlike in her chest, fluttering and alive.

It’s only the second day they’ve spent together, but Katya learns quickly that Trixie likes to talk. She chatters endlessly about what her classes were like as they walk back to her apartment. A couple of professors are ones that Katya has had in her two previous years of school, and she gets to tell Trixie all about what they’re like.

She gets to talk to Trixie.

It feels absurd.

At the door to Trixie’s building, Katya stops her with the touch of three fingers to the inside crease of her elbow. She doesn’t want to do this, really she doesn’t, but she’s working on emotional maturity this year.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“You fucking bitch,” Trixie shrieks, and jabs Katya’s shoulder with a fingertip. “I’ve been thinking about sitting on your face all day. Come upstairs.”

Relief rolls like the tide through Katya and she grins widely. She gets to follow Trixie up the two flights of stairs, her ass swaying in front of Katya’s face. When she met her outside of class she took Trixie’s backpack to carry, because something about this perfect blonde angel of God makes Katya want to be chivalrous. It frees Trixie up to put a little extra swing in her hips, and Katya appreciates the show very much.

As badly as she wants Trixie - it’s bad, she’s been half hard all day - Katya is enjoying the edging. She gets to sit and watch her make dinner for the both of them. The music she’s put on seems to swell and fill the space, pushing against the window so that Katya has to open it. Trixie tells her she can smoke as long as she stays next to the window so she does, amazed that thinking about Trixie has kept her so occupied all day that this is only her third or fourth cigarette.

While she cooks, Trixie sings. She has a beautiful voice, tender and soulful. Katya has noticed the guitar case propped against the wall, and Trixie notices her looking.

“I had a regular bar gig back home. I’m hoping to find something here, but the competition is a bit fiercer than in Wisconsin.”

“You’re a really good singer,” Katya says, and then shuts up so she can listen to her some more.

It feels so intimate, to be sitting on the window ledge in her bare feet and watching Trixie stir the pasta sauce on the stovetop and potter around. She’s still singing, and she keeps darting these little glances at Katya from the corner of her eye.

“Will you, uh. . .go away for just a minute?”

The shock of it makes Katya bark out a laugh. She hops down from the windowsill and pads across the living space in her bare feet. Trixie is leaning against the counter and Katya traps her there with a hand either side of her hips. Since she’s shorter than Trixie is, especially without shoes, it doesn’t exactly have the desired effect. Still, Trixie allows herself to be kept.

“Are we fighting?” Katya whispers, and kisses Trixie before she can answer.

She can taste their whole day together on Trixie. Katya touches her tongue to the swell of Trixie’s bottom lip and delights at how they part for her immediately. The whole day, she has ached for Trixie. In a good way, not like how she’s been pining these last couple months, but still. Getting to kiss her feels like walking weightless through a dreamscape.

“Katya,” Trixie says, and turns her head. It frees up the lovely stretch of skin just below her ear, so Katya doesn’t mind at all. She works at her, tongue and then teeth until Trixie gasps. “Please. Just- two minutes.”

Curiosity propels her out of the front door. She paces back and forth in front of Trixie’s building and sucks down another cigarette, waiting for the timer Trixie set on her phone to go off. The evening is almost warm with the residual heat of the day coming off the sidewalk. Now that she’s here, in Trixie’s space, Katya can’t imagine going back to her own apartment tonight.

When the timer goes off in her pocket it makes her jump. She takes the stairs two at a time. Trixie opens the front door right as Katya gets to it, like she’s been standing there waiting this whole time. Inside, she’s turned off the main overhead lights. The room is lit by several candles and a string of fairy lights draped around the window frame.

The table is laid with two place settings, opposite each other. There are a couple more pillar candles on the table too, and a plant in a terracotta pot as a centerpiece. Katya’s heart comes up into her throat and she swallows hard to dislodge it. Trixie is trying to romance her, that much is obvious. Doesn’t she know?

“You didn’t have to do all this for me. I’m gonna let you sit on my face.”

“I know,” Trixie laughs.

She takes Katya’s hand and leads her over to the table, pulls out her chair for her. The dinner she’s made is nothing fancy, just pasta and sauce, but it’s been a while since somebody has cooked for her. When Trixie sits down across from Katya, she takes her hand and knots their fingers together. It’s awkward, eating with one hand, but worth it.

As they eat, they finally get a chance to talk. Their legs are pressed together beneath the table and it is distracting, but Katya is equally absorbed in what Trixie is saying. She hears all about Trixie’s family, about what growing up in Wisconsin was like. About Trixie’s hopes for the future. She gets to share, too, something of herself. They’re careful not to talk about whatever this is between them, but Katya is totally fine with that. She will take whatever Trixie is willing to give her.

After dinner, Katya insists on cleaning up. Trixie goes to take a shower while she does. She stands with her hands in the sink and listens to the water pounding through the wall and thinks about Trixie. Naked, right now, not ten feet away. It propels her to finish the dishes as quickly as she can, and when the bathroom door opens and a cloud of steam pours out Katya is sitting on the couch trying very hard to look casual.

Trixie’s damp skin is pink with the warmth of the water. She has a towel wrapped around herself and her hair is piled on top of her head, a few curls escaping and sticking to her neck. She comes over to Katya immediately and slides a knee over her thighs until she’s straddling her.

“God, you smell good.” Katya bows her head against Trixie’s chest and kisses the swell of her breast right where it disappears beneath her baby pink towel.

Already, Trixie is shifting impatiently in her lap. Katya lifts her chin in search of Trixie’s mouth and kisses her deeply and carefully, taking her sweet time. Trixie takes Katya’s hand in hers and guides it between her thighs. She’s so wet that Katya moans loudly into her mouth. She slides two fingers into Trixie and curls them, lets her ride her hand even though it’s giving her a wrist cramp.

“Did you think about me here?” Katya asks, and Trixie lets out a tiny sob. “Did you touch yourself on this couch? _Trixie_.”

“Yes,” she manages, and then she’s coming apart and her fingernails are leaving eight perfect half moons at Katya’s shoulders.

Katya talks her through it, a litany of half-nonsense against the shell of Trixie’s ear that comes to her like a benediction. She’s so gorgeous and soft and warm and here that Katya wants to tell her forever how good it feels.

They kiss lazily as Trixie’s breathing settles back to a somewhat normal rate. Once her eyes open again they meet Katya’s and her pupils are blown out, her lips swollen. Trixie reaches a hand down between them and unfastens Katya’s pants for the second time today. Her fingers wrap around Katya’s dick and it’s a full body jolt.

“I’ve thought about you everywhere. I want you against every surface.”

Trixie is pumping Katya as she speaks and her eyes are on Katya’s dick between them. There’s a tiny crease of concentration between her eyebrows that is totally adorable. Katya grows suddenly impatient and undoes the knot of Trixie’s towel. She pushes it off and just like that Trixie is naked over her. She is all smooth skin and freckles and Katya slides her hands up Trixie’s thighs and around to grip her ass.

At the insistent shove of Trixie’s hands on her shoulders, Katya twists around to lie back on the couch. Trixie crawls up her body until she has her knees either side of Katya’s ears and she sinks down. It is all Katya has been thinking about since Trixie asked her to come up. She is enthusiastic and devoted and she lets Trixie grind against her chin.

Trixie comes twice in quick succession and the sounds she makes are so obscene that Katya’s dick twitches against her stomach. She collapses against Katya’s body and kisses the corner of her mouth.

“I could eat you out for hours.”

“Not tonight,” Trixie murmurs.

She’s selfish when she’s horny but the way she directs Katya, tugging on her hair to angle her just so, is really doing it for her. Trixie lifts up a little bit and Katya arches to take Trixie’s nipple into her mouth. She bites down hard, testing Trixie’s limits. Her knee is between Trixie’s thighs and she bends her leg a little more to give her better leverage to grind against.

“Katya, _God_ , I need you inside me. Now. Right now.”

There are too many clothes hindering her still. Trixie gets up from the couch - Katya is filled with pride at the way her knees buckle and she has to grab the back of it to stay standing. It frees Katya up to strip out of her tight pants and her blouse and she does so as quickly and gracefully as she can. Once she’s naked she sits back down on the couch and Trixie straddles her again.

This time, Trixie is the one to roll the condom on. It’s so fucking hot, because every single thing Trixie does is graceful and erotic at the same time. Katya watches her do it and breathes raggedly, focusing on not coming just at the delicate work of Trixie’s fingers. Trixie wraps one hand around the base of Katya’s dick and sinks down.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” Trixie says as she rocks over her. “I love your dick. You feel so good.”

Katya doesn’t have any words, but Trixie’s voice is so low and her lips are right against Katya’s ear and she’s so tight and hot around her. Katya loves her sweat-slick thighs, loves Trixie’s soft stomach against her own. She’s not going to last very long, but from the way Trixie is grinding recklessly and without rhythm against her she’s pretty sure that’s okay.

When she comes Katya cries out Trixie’s name. It is maybe the hundredth time she’s done that in the past few weeks, but to have Trixie actually here tightening around her and kissing her is making her kind of hysterical. She laughs then, can’t help herself, but Trixie is laughing too and climbing off of her, collapsing next to her on the couch.

“You’re not going anywhere this time?” Katya phrases it as a question, but it isn’t, really.

It doesn’t make any sense, Katya is well aware of that. She has known Trixie so briefly, but she likes her so _so_ much. So much that she doesn’t really know what to do about it. The terror of asking Trixie on an actual date chokes her, so instead Katya lays her cheek against the ball of Trixie’s shoulder. Her chest is all pink and flushed and it’s so charming. Everything about her is charming.

Katya wants so much.

She lifts her head again and kisses Trixie’s cheek, tasting the faint sharpness of whatever cleanser she used in the shower. Trixie’s hand lands at Katya’s cheek and the way she touches her is so tender that Katya’s heart breaks. Trixie studies her for a moment, her thumb sweeping distracting arcs back and forth across Katya’s cheekbone, and then she nods.

“Come to bed.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hello on Twitter @reallybeanie, or on Tumblr @katiehoughton


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